Purpose
by smurr79
Summary: At the end, alone and in pain he wonders if he made the slightest difference.


**Prologue**

My eyes burn, but I can't close them, not even for a second, one second of inattention is more than enough for me to be swept under. The semi-automatic berretta recoils as I fire shot after shot into the lurching, screeching crowd of inhuman monsters that sprint towards my friends and I. Down from eight people to four over the course of two weeks.

Terry was the first to go, victim of a maddened cop who thought we were like _them_. I couldn't blame the man for being the way he was, at the end of the world it's easy to lose track of what's sane and what's not. That didn't stop me from slipping the kitchen knife I had between his ribs when he wasn't looking. I took the gun from his cooling hands and I still have it now, turns out dead cops with extra ammo are pretty easy to find.

Christie went next, that was our first encounter with the creature we nicknamed "Smoker". It was easier to travel across the rooftops in some areas; other survivors had set up makeshift bridges. The sound of coughing brought her to the edge of the building, after all, the regulars didn't cough. I turned in time to see a fleshy appendage fly up from nowhere and wrap around her neck. A quick yank and she was gone, we were ten stories up.

Sammy went next, ten years old and cute as hell, she was sort of like a mascot, she kept us going when we thought we couldn't go a step further. In a major city there's always going to be a shit-load of tight alleyways, we were in one when we first heard it. Nowadays we call it a "Hunter", if we'd known what it was maybe we could have stopped it. When we heard the horrifying screech coming from above us we all looked, but no one was ready when it dropped like a stone onto Sammy. If her head smashing against the concrete like a wet melon hadn't killed her, the Hunters razor sharp claws certainly finished the job. It ripped her throat out and in exchange Tony put a shotgun shell into its face. It wasn't a fair trade…I don't think any of us slept that night.

The fourth to go was Tony, and he didn't go easy either. He was lucky enough to get thrown up on by some sort of fat monster we've nicknamed "Boomer". At the time, we were worried it was some sort of poison, so we didn't go near him. Blinded by the bile he stumbled backwards into something that made the rest of the things we'd encountered look cuddly. We call it "Tank" and that's exactly what it is, a wall of muscle and hatred that crushes everything in reach. By that point we'd seen a few more Hunters and Smokers, but compared to this? It didn't even navigate around its regular brethren like the others; it picked them up and used them like weapons. Tony died quickly; the Tank simply turned, reached out and crushed his head like a water balloon. We managed to put it down before anyone else died, but Matt's leg was never quite the same.

Click. Click.

The dry clip drops and I slam a new one home an instant later, a quick pull on the slide and the first round is chambered. I open fire again, almost physically ripping my thoughts from the past and into the present. They've gotten closer, but we've thinned their numbers, I can see flashes of concrete wall through the gaps in bodies. A scream from my left and Mary goes under, I turn to help, but she's already dead. A Hunter is holding down her twitching corpse and using its teeth to pull bloody chunks of her throat out. I put a bullet in its brain and turn back to the steadily approaching multitude of horror. She's been avenged, but it won't bring her back, nothing will. My clip runs dry and I reach for another, only to find my pockets empty, a quick curse and I throw myself to the left. A heavy landing later and I'm next to what's left of Mary and the Hunter. I pull the MAC10 submachine gun from her still warm hands and spray the last vestiges of the clip into the crowd. A quick search of her pockets reveals three fifty round clips and a small switchblade, I take it all.

I move steadily back to my old position, firing staggered bursts of submachine gun fire into the thinning crowd. Finally, they've thinned enough that it's barely ten to one anymore, but they've reached the shattered windows to the shop and now they're coming in. They reach Justin first and he goes down fighting, I pour twenty rounds into the five fiends that have dragged him to the floor, but it's to late. He reaches out to me with pleading eyes, I shake my head and apologise, there's too many left, he's dead anyway. I give him the only help I can, a bullet to the head, he dies painlessly, but his eyes are accusing.

A few moments later and its just me and Susan, back to back and outnumbered five-to-one. I discard the useless gun with disgust, its barrel warped from me using it repeatedly to beat the encroaching zombies back. A startled scream and the comforting warmth that was Susan at my back is pulled away. I twist and pull the switchblade I collected from Mary in one movement. Not fast enough though, I turn in time to see a Smoker pull her out into the street and snap her neck. I plant the small blade into the skull of one of the nine remaining zombies. A solid punch sends another reeling back and side kick throws a third into a glass fridge, killing it. I take a running leap out of the window and sprint towards the smoker on tired legs.

Eight regular zombies and a Smoker and I've got no weapon, I'm already dead. Can't let Susan go without a send off like the rest though, I reach the smoker as it drops her lifeless carcass to the ground and readies it's disgusting tongue. The fleshy appendage flies out at me from less than a meter away. A sharp twist and it soars past, another two steps and I'm in its face and I can smell the repulsive smoke that seeps from its skin. One powerful open handed punch and I drive this things twisted nose bone back into its brain, just to be sure I step around it and snap the things neck with a wet crunch. The next 40 seconds are a lesson in agony as the remaining creatures claw at me. I go down swinging though; two more die at my hands, necks twisted at impossible angles. I go down fighting, and that means something. Right?


End file.
